


Don't Go Around Tonight

by SomeoneOutThereLovesYou_42 (PhinneasMcCheeser42)



Series: Bad Moon Rising [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Gen, Pack Dynamics, face it this is me there's gonna be so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhinneasMcCheeser42/pseuds/SomeoneOutThereLovesYou_42
Summary: Mikey knows, for heaven's sake--he's not stupid, he's not a baby, and Gerard doesn't have to keep telling him. He knows not to go out during a full moon. 
All it takes is one time he doesn't listen...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing--that would be creepy. Please do not send or mention to any of the people mentioned in this fanfic.

When Frank bursts into the bus, Mikey’s limp, pale body cradled in his arms, Gerard completely freezes up. His mouth goes dry with panic. There are bloodstains on Mikey’s shirt, streaks on his neck and right arm, and it’s obvious that one of two things has happened: either his little brother is dead, or—

“He’s been bitten,” Frank says briefly, laying Mikey down on the couch with the easy strength left over from the adrenaline of his change. “He’s alive . . . not bleeding too badly. I think he’ll make it.”

Gerard scrubs at the tears he didn’t notice on his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and holds in a sob. He’s the alpha here; it’s his job to be calm and in charge. Still, he’s not surprised when his voice cracks as he asks, “What does he need?”

Frank is already pulling out the first-aid kit they keep for wolf-related emergencies. They’ve been forced to snatch a few things from hospitals over the years, having realized that ace bandages and hydrogen peroxide won’t get the job done after particularly nasty encounters with other wolves or hunters (and it’s not as if they can check themselves into a hospital). “Maybe stitches,” Frank says, frowning as he cuts Mikey’s shirt vertically across the front with a pair of scissors. “I think he has some claw marks. The bite should heal by itself, obviously.”

Gerard’s breath catches in his throat. Not everyone bitten by a wolf actually gets turned, he knows, but Frank sounds so certain. “You’re sure?”

“Ninety percent,” Frank says grimly.

Gerard exhales. He feels dizzy, and even more so when Frank finishes with Mikey’s shirt and exposes the still-weeping wounds, so obviously inflicted by a wolf, along his ribs. For years Gerard has taken every precaution, lectured Mikey to no end, made every protection to ensure that Mikey stayed Mikey, stayed _human_. To make sure he would never have to go through what Gerard did.

Gerard doesn’t actually realize that he’s thrown the object on the table nearest to him until the water bottle Ray brings on stage hits the wall. Propelled by his anguish at what’s happened and the extra strength from what’s left of the full moon, the bottle doesn’t stand a chance. It shatters upon impact, cracking and falling to the floor in pieces as water drips from the new dent in the wall. Frank looks up sharply.

“There’s time for that later, Gerard,” he warns, and Gerard has to bite back the snarl that threatens to break loose at the blatant challenge to his authority. Frank’s right. Anger won’t solve any of the problems at hand, and it certainly won’t fix Mikey.

Ray emerges from the bunk room then, confusion etched across his face as he rubs sleep from his eyes. Normally, he and Mikey try to sleep through the full moon and wake up late the next day so they don’t get in Frank and Gerard’s way, but now it’s only seven and the sun’s barely risen. “I heard a crash,” Ray says. “Everything all right? How was the moon—” he stops short as he sees Mikey covered in fresh blood on the couch, and Gerard can see the utter terror and devastation in his eyes as he jumps to the obvious conclusion.

“He’s not dead, Ray,” he says quickly. “Frank’s stitching him up now. The crash was your water bottle. I’m sorry, I’ll get you a new one.”

Gerard watches some of the panic recede from Ray’s eyes, replaced with bewilderment as he takes in the full scene: the broken pieces of his water bottle on the floor, the way Gerard’s entire body is tense with the primal need to protect what’s his as he watches Frank move carefully with the needle and thread, the faintly metallic smell of fresh blood in the air. “What happened?” he finally manages. “Will he be all right?”

Frank frowns. He’s busy concentrating on the task at hand, but this is an answer that can’t wait. “The gashes should heal up nicely if we keep them clean. And—” he sets the needle down and moves Mikey’s shirt aside so that the bite on his right shoulder is visible. Gerard sucks in a breath. Even the massive amount of blood can’t disguise the way the bones and muscle are slowly knitting themselves back together—and there it is, the definitive proof. If the bite hadn’t turned Mikey, if he would’ve stayed human, he most likely would have lost all movement in his arm. As things are, it’ll only leave a faint scar identical to the one on Gerard’s right hip. “This’ll heal on its own.”

They all know what that means.

There’s a long silence as Frank returns to his task. He’s been a wolf longer than Gerard and he’s always been better with healing (due likely to the fact that he actually received training from a local pack). He finishes after fourteen precise stitches and stands, satisfied with his work. “He’ll need painkillers when he wakes up,” he says. “The good ones.”

Ray breaks in like he doesn’t want to ask his question. “Frank . . . what happened?”

Frank blows out a long sigh. “Well, you’ll have to ask him why he was out during a full moon. I was probably a mile away from him when I smelled blood and ran over to see what was happening. I couldn’t get to him in time—I’m sorry.” The last part is clearly directed at Gerard, who nods in acceptance, once again fighting back tears as the gravity of the situation hits him. Mikey is a werewolf now. He’s one of them.

“Not your fault, Frankie. You couldn’t’ve done more than you did. What happened to the other wolf?”

Frank shrugs. “He’s not dead—at least, I don’t think—but he won’t be trying that again any time soon.”

Gerard nods again, and they lapse into silence.

“Why don’t you two go to bed,” Ray suggests. “I can watch him.”

Both other men protest simultaneously. “One of us should be here for him, we know how it is,” Frank protests, while Gerard says “He’s my brother. I’m staying” in a tone of voice that lets Ray know he expects to be obeyed. But their pack has never been one to follow every conventional rule set out for them, and Ray won’t back down on this.

“I know how exhausted you guys are after the full moon. I know the toll it takes on you physically, even if you don’t want to admit it. Just go sleep for a few hours, or like, twelve. I swear I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Seeing the sense in what Ray’s saying, Gerard nods reluctantly. Frank, taking his cue from Gerard as usual, copies the action. “You’ll get me if he wakes?” Gerard asks in a way that’s really more of a command, and Ray nods.

“Yep, of course. Now go. _Sleep_.”

Gerard bends down and kisses Mikey’s forehead before leaving.

* * *

Mikey doesn’t wake up until the next day. By that point, Gerard and Frank are awake once again, and they’ve cleaned all the blood off of Mikey using soft washcloths. They also cut off what was left of his shirt and tucked him under a blanket. Still, when he awakes, it’s with a quiet whimper of pain.

Gerard hears it from across the bus and immediately rushes over, carefully petting Mikey’s hair as he opens his eyes. “What—?” he mumbles, eyelids fluttering in confusion, and Gerard shushes him.

“Shh, don’t tax yourself. Rest. You were bitten last night. Speaking of which, we need to have a serious talk about obedience, young man. But later, when you’ve healed.”

“I’m a—?”

Gerard bites his lip and examines the floor beneath him. “I’m sorry, Mikes. He turned you.”

Gerard hears Mikey whisper “‘s okay, not your fault . . . ‘least now I’ll be like you, Gee,” before he slips off into unconsciousness once again.

It doesn’t make him feel any better.  


It’s nearly five hours later when Mikey wakes again, only this time Frank is the one watching him. Gerard and Ray had to go out for groceries. It speaks wonders of the unshakable trust Gerard has for Frank that he allowed him to watch over Mikey in his absence, but that’s just the way things are between them. They’re not just friends, they’re pack.

Mikey blinks himself awake to the sight of Frank flipping through Gerard’s selection of Batman comics. It’s downright normal, from Frank’s slouched over position in the chair to the quiet Black Flag coming from his speakers, except for the sharp pains in his side and shoulder.

Frank’s head comes up like a shot when he hears Mikey’s noise of distress. “Easy there, Mikes,” he says, setting aside the comic and standing so he can walk over. “Don’t sit up, you’ll pull your stitches.”

“I have stitches?” Mikey asks in confusion, trying to sit up so he can look down. Frank discourages this by running his hand through Mikey’s hair, lightly tugging downwards. “What happened? I don’t remember . . .”

“Yes, you have stitches,” Frank replies. He keeps carding his hand through Mikey’s hair since it seems to be comforting him. “I don’t know why you were out when you knew better—don’t bother telling me now, Gerard will want to hear it from you later.” Frank ignores Mikey’s guilty wince as best he can. “Last night I smelled blood in the air, so I ran to find out what was happening, and I found you. I was too late to stop him turning you, Mikes. I’m sorry.”

Mikey shook his head, the movement minute but still noticeable. “Not your fault, Frank,” he says, and Frank shrugs.

“Maybe not. I fought the other wolf off, then did the best I could to help you until the moon went down. Then I brought you back.”

There’s a pause. Mikey’s obviously in pain, but he still manages a quiet “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” Frank stands, walking over to the kitchenette counter, and Mikey tries not to make a noise of displeasure when the hand stroking his hair leaves with him. “It was the least I could do. I, uh, have painkillers. You’ll want these.”

“How strong are they?”

“Well, you won’t be drinking anything other than water for a few weeks,” Frank says jokingly. “And we will watch you like a hawk to make sure.”

“I don’t doubt it.”  
  
“But they work like a charm, I promise.” Frank comes back with a white pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “And I do solemnly swear that I will tease you only minimally for all the dumb things you’ll say while you talk in your sleep.”

“You’re too good to me,” Mikey says, deadpan, and Frank chuckles.

“Anything for you, kid.”

“I’m a year older than you are,” Mikey protests halfheartedly as Frank places one hand under his head to lift it up so he can swallow the medication. Frank doesn’t respond. The light in Mikey’s eyes is duller now, and while Frank knows it won’t stay that way forever it hurts to see it now. He and Gerard have both stood in that same hurricane of confusion and betrayal and inexplicable loss following their own forced changes, and while it sucks and it’s not nearly enough, the best they can do is promise Mikey that he won’t go through it alone.

But that’s for Gerard to explain. It’s not Frank’s place—one, because Gerard’s his (their, now) alpha, but more importantly because he’s Mikey’s brother. So Frank goes back to running his hand through Mikey’s hair and says “It’ll get better. Time passes and it’s not so hard to take.”

Mikey’s brow furrows. Frank can tell he wants to say something, but the bus doors open right then and he doesn’t get the chance because Gerard and Ray are back. They’re carrying a few bags each and trying to be quiet in case Mikey’s still out of it. The moment he notices Mikey’s awake, however, Ray grins in delight and exclaims “Mikey! Welcome back!” Mikey gives him a wan smile and an optimistic thumbs-up in response.

Gerard hurriedly sets his bags down and crosses the room, sitting down on the floor next to the couch and resting his chin on the cushion. He stares up at Mikey with big, expressive hazel eyes. “How’s the pain?” he asks. Mikey winces.

“Pretty bad,” he admits. Gerard’s eyebrows furrow, and his eyes take on a sadness Mikey never wants to see there again, much less be the cause of.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He reaches up and twines his fingers with Mikey’s, absentmindedly tapping a rhythm on the back of Mikey’s hand. “Yeah, you were beat up really bad. Worse than I was when I was turned. You should sleep.”

“I’m sick of sleeping,” Mikey complains. “I’ve _been_ sleeping.” But he doesn’t object when Ray draws the blinds.

“That may be, but you’re still healing, and you lost a lot of blood. Sleep is a weapon.”

Mikey rolls his eyes at the Bourne reference. “You’re lame, Gee.”

Gerard shrugs. “You know how Frank and I spend a good twelve hours sleeping after a change. It takes the edge off and you sleep through the worst of it.”

Frank gives Mikey’s hair another gentle tug, causing Mikey to look up at him. He smiles. “Listen to Gerard,” he says. “It makes life a whole lot easier, I promise.”

Mikey closes his eyes, and Gerard and Frank sit there with him until his breathing evens out and he’s asleep again.  


* * *

“I never wanted this to happen.”

Gerard’s voice is tight. Frank glances at him out of the corner of his eye and notices the defeat in his slumped shoulders, and a wave of pity comes over him. “No one ever does,” he says. “It’s not your fault things are bad right now. And it’s not your fault he was turned.”

“I wanted him to stay out of this.”

Frank sighs. “We are staying out of it, Gerard,” he replies calmly. Their tones are hushed, the way they always are now when they talk about pack matters. “We keep to ourselves; we don’t tell other people. Most moons we don’t even run. We can’t be safer than we are. And we’ll keep him safe.”

Frank’s said his piece. He has no more words, so he places a firm hand on Gerard’s shoulder for a few seconds before heading to his bunk. But Gerard stays up the whole night anyway, muscles tense and eyes quick like hot coals, thinking matters over and keeping watch until daybreak.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to update this regularly but we all know that won't happen. Hopefully I can get chapter 2 up vaguely soonish...until next time!


End file.
